


I Get the Strangest Feeling You Belong

by cumberhardhiddlesbitch



Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [18]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, Friendship, London, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Rain, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberhardhiddlesbitch/pseuds/cumberhardhiddlesbitch
Summary: Shannon and Ben meet unexpectedly and make the best of it.
Relationships: Benedict Cumberbatch/Tom Hardy, Tom Hardy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Rhombus 'Verse [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/715134
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	I Get the Strangest Feeling You Belong

Ben barely made it to Tom’s flat before the sky opened up, a late summer rain soaking the street. He wheeled his bike around to the tiny garden behind Tom’s building, stashing it in the shed. By the time he got to the front door every part of him not covered by his jacket and helmet was soaked. He left his jacket on the peg and hurried to the washroom, leaving his sodden jeans in the tub along with his socks. In Tom’s room he helped himself to a pair of sweatpants, trading his t-shirt for one of Tom’s, drying his hair with his own shirt before tossing it into the tub as well. With dry socks on he made his way to the kitchen, the sound of the rain loud against the windows. He turned the lights on then took down a mug and began making himself a cup of tea. 

When the front door slammed he was surprised to hear how fast the steps on the stairs were-- Tom usually took them at a more sedate pace-- but the reason was apparent when Shannon came walking into the kitchen. She froze, her look of surprise tinged with dismay likely a mirror of his own. She set the white paper bag she’d been carrying on the worktop.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. The bottom third of her pant legs were soaked, a clear line where her mac had stopped, but the rest of her looked dry enough. 

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” He felt a nagging sense that telling her to get out wasn’t really all that reasonable. Perhaps Tom would call her a cab when he got home. That would be at least decent.

“I asked first.” She rested her hand lightly on the edge of the counter.

“I’m meeting Tom,” Ben said. “We had plans.” They’d only been made that afternoon, when Ben realized that he had a half day free, but they were plans nonetheless. 

“Tom’s not going to be here until late, like after midnight late.” She rubbed one heel against her opposite shin, wincing at how the wet fabric rubbed against her skin. 

“No, that’s not right, he texted me.” Ben pulled out his phone and quickly re-read their exchange. “Huh. I guess that could have been taken two ways.”

“It’s all interiors too, he told me. The rain won’t get him home any earlier.”

Ben looked sharply at her. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I asked Tom if it was alright that I come over tonight to stay.”

“You’ve got a key?”

“So do you,” she pointed out. “I’m going to go change.”

Once she was gone Ben found himself taking down another mug and switching the kettle back on. He rolled his eyes, berating himself silently for being so stereotypically English that he couldn’t help but make tea for a guest, even if she was uninvited and unwanted. At least half of his irritation had to be for Tom, he reasoned. It was the twenty first century. He needed to learn how to text.

When Shannon came back she was wearing a different pair of jeans and a hoodie that was clearly hers and not Tom’s. The knowledge that she kept clothes at Tom’s house grated on him.

“Do you stay here often?” Ben asked. “When Tom’s not here, I mean.”

She shrugged. “Things have gotten a little communal at mine for my liking and Tom doesn’t mind.”

“So you’ve essentially moved in.” The thought of her clothes mingling with Tom’s while Ben kept all his things neatly corralled in his own flat made him want to grind his teeth.

“I have not essentially moved in. I do stay here sometimes, as do you.”

“Not when Tom isn’t here.”

“I’m sure you could if you needed to.” She looked over at the kettle as it clicked off, surprised when Ben nodded to the empty mug next to it.

“I didn’t know which tea was yours. You both like those herbs and twig blends.”

“Thanks,” she said as she pulled down a box from the cupboard. “You know, before I stay here, ever, I do ask. It’s not like I’m trying to crowd you out.” She watched the tea bag float as she poured the water in, not looking at him at all.

“That’s decent of you, but it’s not like he would ever say no.”

“He has.” She looked up at him. “He has said no, when you were coming over, or when Louis is here.”

“You haven’t met Louis?” Ben couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

“Not yet.” She pressed the teabag down with the spoon, impatient. “He’s just being cautious. It’s a good thing.”

“That’s just really restrictive, though.” He felt some of his irritation fading. He was never demonstrative with Tom in front of Louis but he was at least able to spend time with him, and being able to dote on Louis was part of the appeal at those times anyway.

“It is what it is. I knew what I was signing up for.” She carried her mug to the table and set it down.

“I didn’t.” He saw her shoulders stiffen at the tone, and well she might be wary. He was only reminding her that while she had been offered the chance to share Tom’s time nearly from the very start, Ben had come to it by quite another route.

“With regards to Louis, though,” she said, trying to steer the conversation back to neutral ground.

He smiled, enjoying the chance to undermine that effort. “Louis was conceived and born well after Tom and I had started.”

“And you both had other partners then.” She sat down, hands wrapped around the mug.

“Your point being?” Ben asked. 

“The point being, you knew what you were to each other at the beginning, even if that’s changed by now, just like I knew that I was agreeing to be the third person in this relationship.”

“Oh really.” Ben could feel the tide of words rising in him, knew he should hold it back, but didn’t want to. “Is that what you think you are?”

“What, the third person? In a manner of speaking, yes. I was the last one in. That makes me the third person.”

“You’re wrong. The third person was me.”

She turned her cup around on the table, her fingers pressed against the hot ceramic. “How do you figure?”

“Easy. Tom ended things with us before he asked you to be his girlfriend. He met you one evening and broke up with me the next morning.” Ben nearly bit his own tongue as he realized he’d referred to that conversation as a breakup. It had been, in its own way, so much worse than that.

“Did he really, though? I thought it was just that he was waiting to see how I’d take the whole situation.”

“He was waiting because if you hadn’t been alright with it, he’d have left me out of his life entirely.” With the comfort of familiar surroundings he could almost forget that for a day it had seemed all too real a possibility. 

Ben waited but Shannon was merely staring out the window, watching the rain lash against the panes. 

“Well?” he asked her.

She looked back at him slowly. “Just trying to decide whether or not I believe you.”

Ben stared her down. “Are you seriously implying that I’m lying about this?”

She shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like I know you.”

“A bit insulting to Tom, isn’t it. Tacitly, I mean.” 

“I don’t know. You might have got past him. You’re very charming.” She said it without rancor, and he found that he could not tell if she was trying to be funny or not. “Besides, there’s no prizes.”

“For what?”

“For being third, or second, or any of it. It just is what it is.” 

He considered her words while he drank. It was the second time she’d uttered that sentiment, and he wondered if it was something she had to tell herself often. Her phone chirped, and she looked down at it, frowning at the text message.

“Dammit, Tom,” she muttered. As she texted she read out her words, so Ben could hear. “Tom, the Swedish Chef makes more sense than you do. Please stop texting with your feet.” She sent it and set the phone on the table, looking utterly harassed.

Ben held out his hand. “Should I have a look at it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because you have so many years on me of superior Tom text decryption?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “I’ll figure it out when I’m not thinking about it anymore. That’s how it usually goes.” She slipped her phone back into her pocket, as if Ben might try to sneak a look at it.

As he drank he realized that the silence between them didn’t feel nearly as oppressive as before.

“He’s not texted back?” Ben asked. She shook her head. “I suppose he could be working. Or else he really doesn’t appreciate being compared to the Swedish Chef.”

She leaned back, one hand resting on the table, just to the outside of her mug. “Who do you suggest then, out of the Muppets? They’re probably all equally bad at texting.”

Ben found himself actually thinking about it. “There was a time I would have said Bunsen.”

When Shannon laughed she pulled her hand back, resting the back of her wrist against her mouth for a moment. “Yeah, alright. Dr. Bunsen Honeydew it is.” She let her hand rest in her lap and Ben felt, for a moment, the effort she’d expended in keeping it on the table, before, keeping her shoulders open, as if she wasn’t bothered by him. 

A sudden wind shook the windows, a low short hum, the new glass too firmly placed to truly rattle. “It doesn’t seem like we’re leaving any time soon,” Ben said. “I could do with some food. Tom is just going to have to extend his hospitality to me in absentia.”

“Good luck,” Shannon said as he went to a cupboard. “This place is a food desert.”

“Complete with sand,” Ben said as he pulled down a canister of whey protein. “I’m sure it’s filling but it’s not what I’m after.” He looked through the other cupboards, sure that the real food was hiding somewhere, but other than some rice cereal and teething biscuits they were empty of anything but cups and plates. The refrigerator was similarly barren. “Well this is worse than usual,” he said.

“He’s been on set so much he’s not really eating here,” Shannon offered. “Afraid it will go bad. There might be something in the freezer.”

Ben pulled it open. “Spinach and frozen fruit.” He turned around. “Again, all food, and not what I’m after.” He frowned as he looked out the window. Soon the main concern wouldn’t be could he get a curry, but whether or not there would be flooding.

"We've got the scones, if you like," Shannon said.

"Is that what you brought?" Ben looked over at the white bag. "I'd love a scone, if you've more than just the one."

"I've got one cheese and herb, and one currant and blackberry. I couldn't decide which I wanted, sweet or savory." She paused. "Still can't really, though if you don't mind I'd go halves on them."

"Sounds good."

“I’ll start us with the cheese one,” she said. 

Ben watched her move around the kitchen, her unthinking ease with the microwave and easy reach for the plates, no second guessing or searching clearly marking her as someone who had been there before. It wasn't as if he didn't know that she had been, but seeing her inhabit the space so comfortably was another thing entirely.

She set the butter on the table and his portion of the scone in front of him.

"Thanks," he said. It was warm, but not too hot. He reached for the butter as she sat down, spreading a bit and watching it soak into the bread.

"You're welcome." She accepted the butter as he pushed it back to her. Outside the rain paused, then resumed slapping the windows with renewed force. "I'd usually say that there's something nice about being in when the weather is nasty, but this is on the verge of becoming actually frightening."

"I think it's beginning to die down," Ben said, listening carefully. The rain had faded to a sort of white noise, not as distinct anymore.

"I hope so." She took another bite, nibbling around the edge where it was crunchier. "These are quite nice."

"They are." Ben felt something in his face relax, the side of his jaw, maybe. He hadn't realized he'd been clenching it but now that he was more at ease around Shannon it seemed obvious that he had been tense. It felt better not to be. He could feel something that felt like potential, between them, that maybe this peaceful moment could be their usual, instead of an exception to the rule.

"This is nice too," Shannon said, speaking before he could find a way to say what he was thinking. 

"What is?" It wouldn't do to put his foot in it, admitting to something that she wasn't actually saying.

"Just having a bit of a chat with you, not sniping." She had set her scone down on her plate, her hands still on the table. 

"It is. I was just thinking, it would be good if this was our normal."

She nodded. "I'm in. I mean, it's sort of stupid otherwise, at this point."

"I had this idea that Tom never said no to you," Ben said. "It's foolish, I know, but it's just what it seemed like, to me, and I hated that, because he winds up telling me no all the time."

"Because of me?" Shannon asked.

"Usually because of Louis, or I'm asking him for time that isn't his to give, because of other obligations, or, sometimes, you. It makes sense that he'd be making time for me too, but, I have no idea why, I just didn't see that at all." He could feel his face warming, not accustomed to giving away so much of his thoughts at once.

"I just had no idea that the beginning of this had been the way it was, for you," she said. "I guess I knew logically, but not what it was actually like for you." She broke off a corner of her scone but only looked at it for a moment. "To be honest, it was probably easier for me not to think about it."

"I think that's probably fairly human, not to put ourselves out to think of how the other person is feeling about something. Would have saved a lot of time though." He caught her sharp look. "On my part, as well, I mean. Both of us."

“Yeah.” She ate in silence for a moment, looking wistful. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” Ben said.

She looked at him and held her hand out, palm up, laughing at his puzzled expression. “Sorry, it’s a thing my sister and I used to do. You actually demand the penny.”

He found himself leaning forward in his chair, his usual curiosity piqued by the mention of a sibling. “Did she actually pay up?”

“If she wanted to know what I was thinking,” Shannon said. “Of course sometimes I was just wool gathering and I’d have to make something up.”

“Well, I haven’t got a penny, but I still want to know.”

She picked up the stray crumbs from her plate, not looking at him. “I was thinking, it might be nice to be able to see Tom at the same time, when our schedules are tight or overlapping. I was thinking about that and just the logistics of everything, how it would be simpler if I had met Louis, and I just really want to meet him.” She looked up at him, furtive. “I don’t mean to ask you to keep a secret, but would you mind not telling Tom I said that?”

“I don’t mind not telling him, but have you told him yourself?” Ben got up to get the halved currant scone, saving her from having to look right at him.

“I’ve mentioned that I’d like to meet him, but Tom said he was waiting, so I didn’t bring it up again. I figure, he knows he has a son, he knows I said once that I wanted to meet him, it’s not like I need to remind him.”

“You might be giving him too much credit,” Ben said. “I doubt that he’s losing sleep over it but he may not remember if you’ve just mentioned it the once.”

She accepted the half scone from him when he offered it. “It just doesn’t seem like the sort of thing I should bring up. My sister said that the rule of thumb is six months. I guess I could mention it again some time, but I just don’t want him thinking that I was complaining to you about it.”

Ben nodded. “Fair enough. He is protective of Louis. It wouldn’t be strange for him to wait that long, even though he’s sure about you.”

She played with her mug, rather than look at him. 

“He is, you know,” Ben said. “Which is why he was so annoyed when we didn’t get on.”

“Annoyed hardly seems the word,” she said. 

“Well. Extremely annoyed, then,” Ben said. “Seriously, though. He wouldn’t have cared so much if he didn’t think it was a situation he’d have to keep dealing with.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“Yes. I actually told him off for chastising me and he told me I deserved it.” Ben curled his lip at the memory.

“Sounds similar to our discussion, if you can call it that. I think from then on he decided to make sure we were never in the same place. Which, now that I think about it, must be fairly exhausting.”

“I was apprehensive about meeting you.” Ben held her gaze as he spoke, and she did him the favor of not looking away. “I mean, you’d been described to me in such glowing terms I couldn’t help but be afraid that he’d just decide that the risk wasn’t worth it and he’d choose you over me.” He stopped. “I shouldn’t say that I couldn’t help it,” he amended. “I didn’t want to help it. I felt like it was my right to feel threatened by you.”

She looked away for a moment, just at her cup as she picked it up. “Having heard your side of things, I can’t say I blame you.” She shrank in her chair, then sat up straight, but her voice was a bit strained, a bit thick when she spoke again. “For my part, I already felt a bit like an intruder into your lives. I could have handled it with more grace, though.”

Ben shifted in his seat and held his hand out to her. She hesitated before taking it, and he squeezed her hand before he shook it once.

“To civility,” she said, as if it were a toast.

“Hopefully to better than that.”

“Agreed.” She smiled as he let go of her hand and looked out the window. “Well. That looks less apocalyptic, at least.” 

“It does. Too bad Tom wasn’t on exteriors tonight. They’d have sent him home for sure.”

“True.” She fell silent, looking out the window.

“Are you still hungry?” Ben’s voice made her jump. “I could venture out, if you’d like.”

She shook her head. “No, actually, I’m fine. Don’t let me stop you if you’re hungry, though.”

“I’m alright. Tell the truth, I don’t really relish the idea of going out in that.”

“How did you get here?” she asked. 

“Bike. Motorcycle,” he said, remembering that she’d had him pegged as a cyclist at one point. 

“I took the tube, and I’ve got the mac and all. I can go, though I’d rather wait a bit, to see if all that dies down.”

“You don’t need to go,” Ben said. “You must have been staying here for a reason.”

She shrugged but it was more like a shudder at first. “Not really. I mean, I’ve got a home. It’s just gotten a bit complicated of late.”

“How so?”

“I have two roommates. They’re a couple and they share a bedroom, but lately they’ve been sort of not a couple. I guess. I used to be fairly good friends with one of them but she’s sort of, not blanking me, but not telling me everything. She literally told me it was complicated when I asked her what was going on. Her partner, or whatever, more or less told me that I couldn’t understand because I was straight, is what it boiled down to.”

“That sounds unpleasant. Did you bother trying to tell her that you’re queer by proxy?” He smiled at her, relieved when she giggled, pushing her mug away with one hand while she covered her mouth with the other.

“I hadn’t thought about it like that, but yes, they know, and no, it doesn’t give me any cred. But that’s not what’s weird, to be honest. That I could handle. It’s the number of other people staying in the house. We’ve all got irregular schedules. I’ve got a job but it’s not bankers hours, and they’re both working as well, commissions and spec work as well as god knows what, I can’t keep up. So when there are people over, I never know if they’re just starting their evening or leaving. We don’t keep regular hours, so we never came up with a solid policy on how many guests, for how long, how often, and all of that.” She sighed. “This must be so boring, I know you’ve got your own flat.”

“I didn’t always, believe me. This sounds all too familiar.”

“I’m not even all that annoyed, it’s just become more communal than I like, and if I want a bit of time to myself I wind up sat in my room like a mouse in a hole. It’s not that I can’t sit in the lounge, just it’s always full of people, and I can’t keep track of whether or not someone is sleeping on the sofa but it seems like we’re playing hostel more often than we used to, as well. We’ve always split the rent three ways, though, so I can’t complain. I mean, they could have asked me to pay more, since I’ve got my own room.”

“Have you said anything to them about it?”

She shook her head. “Just gently, obviously too gently. And it’s not like I can say that anything untoward is going on. It’s impossible to tell if someone is staying over or if the evening has just gone on until six in the morning.”

“So that’s why you’re here.”

“Tom said he wasn’t going to be home until late, and then gone again in the morning. I figured I’d have the place to myself and if I got to say hello to him so much the better.”

“And here I am, putting paid to that idea,” Ben said.

“You’re much more measured company than anyone at my home,” she said.

“Even given our topic of conversation earlier?”

“Even then.” She leaned back in her chair, her fingertips on the table clearly indicating that she was comfortable in the house. She lowered her chair almost immediately. “Sorry, bad habit.”

“I won’t tell.”

“Thanks.” She sighed and looked at the kitchen. 

“You know, I actually am hungry.” He could still feel a certain gnawing in his stomach despite the not insubstantial scone.

“Me too. Thinking that scone would keep me was optimistic. And I have to admit that I wish there was alcohol here. Just a bit.”

Ben looked out the window. “We could walk down to the off-lic.” The rain was steady, but nothing their jackets wouldn’t be able to handle.

“Would he not mind?”

Ben shook his head. “I’ve had the odd drink here, every now and then. He doesn’t mind. It’s not like you’re after being pissed, is it?”

“No, I just feel like one.” She stood and stretched. 

“Then let’s go.” He stood and went to the coat rack, pulling down Tom’s rain coat. It hung off his shoulders, and he didn’t miss Shannon’s smirk at that. “Or I can go, if you like, and you can stay here.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” she said, pulling on her own boots and macintosh. She looked towards the bedroom thoughtfully. “I could put on the trousers that are already wet.”

“Don’t bother, I don’t think it’s raining all that hard.”

She followed him down the stairs and waited as he locked the front door.

“It’s not so bad out here. I could just go home,” she said. With her hands shoved in the pockets of her rain coat she looked small.

“I thought you’d stay here, as planned. I could go home, actually, right now.” He turned the key over in his hands, unsure of how the situation had gotten away from him so quickly. The thought of having a drink and a meal with Shannon had appealed, not only because he was hungry, but because it would please Tom if they were on friendly terms.

“It’s not really all that safe to ride your motorcycle in this though, is it?” She asked. “And if you got a cab home the bike would be stuck here. Probably better to wait it out.”

“Good point.”

At the off-lic Shannon deliberated for a moment before picking two small bottles of microbrew. Ben glanced at them and wondered if she had chosen them for the labels as much as anything else. For himself he set down two cans of lager, quietly paying for the lot and taking the bag before she could protest.

“Thank you for that. Let me get us some food.” She had fallen in step beside him.

“Do you want to share a curry?” Ben asked. He hoped she wouldn’t ask why he only wanted to share one, not wanting to give up that he was supposed to be on a fairly strict regimen during filming. The scone and the beer were already pushing it.

“Perfect. Do you mind if it’s not terribly spicy?”

“No. I know you don’t care for spicy food.”

She tilted her head, thinking, as they walked into the carry away shop. “Tom told you that about me?”

“He’s mentioned a few things about you.” He held his tongue, not wanting to ask out loud if Tom had spoken of him. From Shannon’s surprise he was guessing that the answer was simply no.

“Huh.” She didn’t say anything else on the matter. He sat on the plastic bench as she ordered and paid for their food, shifting over when she joined him. Under the harsh fluorescent lights she looked older, the lines at the corners of her eyes standing out. He hastily pushed away the thought of how he must look. Earlier in the evening she had seemed impossibly young, a terrible choice for Tom, based on that alone, but now he wondered if it wasn’t more the trappings of her life, the shared flat, the drama amongst her roommates, that made him think she was so unseasoned. The six years between them didn’t seem like so much, now that he was seeing her quiet and still under the unflattering light.

He turned to her to stay something, he wasn’t even quite sure what-- but she had taken her phone out of her pocket and was scrolling through something on the screen. He watched one of the workers boxing up a paneer and hoped that it was for them, happy to collect it when their number was called.

Back at the flat she was more animated again, dividing their food between two plates and searching around Tom’s kitchen drawers for a bottle opener. Ben’s mouth was already full when he realized what she was doing, and he reached over to take the bottle from her hand, reaching back to the canister of kitchen implements and pulling out the can opener, which had a bottle opener on the back of it. He opened her bottle for her, leaving the can opener on the work top.

“Thanks.”

He swallowed his food, nodding as he picked up his plate. “It’s not like he really needs to keep a bottle opener around here,” he said, taking his food.

“I don’t know. The odd fancy ginger beer might need one,” she said, joining him at the table.

“Possible.” The paneer was a bit spicier than he’d expected, given her dislike of spices, and he noticed her drinking after every second bite or so. “Is it too hot for you?”

“It’s fine,” she said. “It’s warm, just makes me glad I’ve got this.” She held up the bottle before drinking again.

“Did you pick based on the labels?”

She nodded. “That obvious?”

“Well, they’re nice looking labels,” he said. “I thought it might not be a coincidence.” 

She was sniffling between each bite by the time they were halfway through the food.

“Are you sure it’s alright?” Ben asked.

“It’s fine! I need to train my palate to be more adventurous anyway,” she said. “I’d take a bit more of the rice if you don’t mind, though.”

“Not at all.” He stood up and retrieved the little box with the last of the rice, returning to the table to scoop most of it on to her plate.

“I didn’t mean to make you serve me, only wanted to make sure I wasn’t taking too much,” she said as he returned to his side of the table.

He poured the rest of the rice out on his plate. “It’s fine. And I’ve never really understood that particular bit of etiquette. What if the other party says, no, actually, I want that biscuit. It’s still going to one person who wants it while the other person is left wanting.”

“It’s more an announcement of intention, really,” Shannon said. “Though I am guilty of offering to share the last biscuit, but really, then everyone just gets a broken biscuit.”

“And it would be better not to?” Ben asked.

“With biscuits? Yeah. Part of the pleasure is having the whole biscuit to yourself.” She took another bite, sipped on her beer, then was suddenly overcome with laughter, her hand pressed helplessly against her nose and mouth.

“Are you ok?” Ben leaned across the table, then ran to the kitchen to grab a handful of paper towels. He handed them to her and watched in fear as she held the entire wad up to her face. She slowly lifted her head, breathing deeply.

“Ah, my nose,” she said, sniffing gently. “That’ll teach me to laugh with my mouth full.”

“What was that all about?” Ben asked as he took his seat once more.

“You really didn’t hear it?” she asked, laughing as she spoke, almost cautiously. “I really was just talking about biscuits.”

He replayed the conversation in his head as he took the paper towels back, the significance hitting him just as he was throwing them in the bin.

“Oh!” He returned to the table, chuckling to himself as he sat down. “I hear it. I’d like to say that being the only one with a biscuit was never a priority of mine, but I might have put the lie to that the last few weeks.”

“Probably human nature,” Shannon said, separating a chunk of paneer from the rest of the curry, carefully not looking at him. “I mean, I’m familiar with it.”

“In my case though, I was already benefiting from,” he paused. “I was going to say sharing my biscuits but that sounds wrong.”

“It sounds a world of wrong,” she said. “Probably best that we get off this metaphor as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, well, I had probably been guilty of a fair amount of selfishness.”

“Well let’s not go over that again,” she said. “I think we’ve both confessed ourselves enough this evening. You are well forgiven.”

“Thanks.” His initial irritation at having been told, essentially, that he’d done something requiring forgiveness quickly gave way to simple gratitude. “You as well.”

“Thanks.” She picked up her beer to toast him once more, but it was empty. “Whoops.”

“Here, I’ll get it.” He took her empty bottle on his way to the kitchen and brought back a full bottle for each of them. “Do you want to move into the living room? We could watch something.”

“Sure.” She stood and held out her bottle to him. "Bad luck to toast with an empty bottle, I'm sure," she said. 

"I'd agree to that." He tapped the neck of his bottle against hers, grateful that she didn't seem to need to say what this particular toast was for.

"So what are you in the mood to watch?" he asked as he approached Tom's entertainment cabinet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shannon almost stumble as she changed direction quickly, having been walking towards it herself.

"Something fairly light, I should think," she said. "I'm not up for anything with subtitles at the moment."

"I don't think you'd find much in that vein here," Ben said, running his finger along the spines of the DVDs. "Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels?"

Her sudden laugh surprised him. "No, um, I just saw that one. Maybe something else."

"Sure." He pulled out a shrink wrapped case. "This one isn't even opened yet." He held it out to her.

"Super Troopers? Sure but I imagine you've seen it a hundred times."

He shook his head. "I've never seen it."

"Seriously?" She took the case out of his hands and started peeling off the plastic. "I find that hard to believe. I mean, it should have been out when you were in university."

"A bit afterwards, I think. I've heard of it but I never actually got around to watching it."

"Well, we're watching it now." She handed him the disk, then settled herself into the corner of the sofa. Ben took the opposite corner once the DVD was started, his legs up on the ottoman.

"Did you want to put your feet on this?" he asked, kicking it gently.

"No, I'm good." She was curled up with her feet tucked against the front edge of the sofa, just under the cushion. "Thanks."

Ben glanced over at her several times during the first scenes watching how engrossed she was in a film she had clearly seen many times before. When he laughed at one point and there was no sound from her he looked over to find that she'd fallen asleep with her chin tucked against her chest, the beer bottle held loosely in her hand. He leaned over and took the bottle from her, thinking that the motion would disturb her into wakefulness, but she didn't stir, nor when he placed the throw from the back of the sofa over her shoulders.

She did lift her head, eyes still closed, when his phone buzzed with a text. When he looked it appeared that Tom had finally learned how to text coherently, or nearly.

_On my way home. Flat fur free?_

Ben sighed. _Fur?_

 _Cats and dogs like_ was the reply. Ben narrowed his eyes at the phone.

_You arse._

Tom’s reply was a terse _C u soon_.

Ben thought about not saying anything further but then added a quick text to let Tom know that Shannon was asleep.

The film ended and Ben muted the repetitive menu music, but felt too tired himself to get up off the sofa. Just as he was contemplating that he heard the front door, and the obviously careful tread as Tom made his way upstairs.

Tom didn’t speak until he was standing just in front of the two of them.

“How long has she been out?” he asked.

“Over an hour,” Ben said. “I’m not entirely sure when she nodded off.”

Tom nodded. “Just a minute.” He crouched in front of Shannon, keeping back a bit, Ben noted, lest she bolt forward. “Shannon,” he said, his voice soft. He had his hand on her wrist, rubbing it gently. “Do you want to go to sleep in the bed?”

“Mmm hmm. Yeah.” She tried to sit up, struggling against the dent she’d made in the cushions. Tom put his arm around her shoulders to help her sit forward, and Ben felt his stomach clench, wondering if he was going to carry her. He helped her stand, kept his arm around her lower back as they walked to the bedroom. When Tom spoke to her again it was too low for him to hear.

As the bedroom door shut he found himself at a loss, not wanting to even give a thought to the fact that Tom was in there, with her. He took the DVD out of the player and put it away, switched the television to the classical music station, and sat down on the sofa again. A moment later he was up and pacing to the kitchen, getting a glass of water he didn’t really want before he sat down again.

Tom came out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself just as Ben was setting the empty glass on the floor. As he walked over to the sofa he shut the television off.

“Where’s Max?” Ben asked.

Tom sat down where Shannon had been. “I left him with his sitter. Late night, early morning, didn’t seem worth taking him home. I’ll get him on my way home tomorrow.”

“Will Shannon not be bothered if we’re out here talking?” Ben just about kicked himself for giving away that he hoped Tom would stay for a bit, would let him stay for a bit.

“No, once she’s asleep, she’s asleep.” Tom settled himself, one elbow up on the back of the sofa. “So, she tells me you two had a good chat. Though I have to say, she is fairly delirious when she’s half asleep.”

“That wasn’t delirium, we did have a nice chat.” He weighed whether or not to even ask the obvious question, then gave in to his curiosity. “Did you set us up?”

“No. Not really.”

Ben sighed. “What does not really mean? You told both of us that we could come over tonight.”

“I told Shannon she could come over tonight, as I wasn’t even going to be here. I told you that you could come over _tomorrow_ night.”

“No, it was tonight.”

Tom held his hand out. “Your phone.”

“Whatever.” Ben pulled his phone out and scrolled through the texts, then checked the date Tom had mentioned against the actual date. “Bugger.”

“Yeah. I figured, well, I could either tell you to go away, or I could hope that without me around you and Shannon might have a chance to realize that you’re actually fairly likely to be friends, given the chance.”

“I can’t say that I consider us friends,” Ben said carefully, not wanting to overstate the progress they’d made.

“Friendly acquaintances at least,” Tom said. “With something fairly significant in common?”

“I’ll give you that.” He wanted to lean forward, to press the curve of his shoulder into Tom’s chest until Tom pulled him close, but the knowledge that Shannon was sleeping, or hopefully sleeping, just a few feet away stopped him. 

Tom leaned over just as Ben was trying to decide what to do with himself, pressing himself against Ben's side. Ben put his arms around Tom instinctively, then tightened his grip, gently turning Tom so he was face up. 

"Tired?" Ben asked.

Tom nodded, his eyes closing on a long blink. "It's been a long day."

"Is tomorrow going to be any less so?" 

“Yes. I go in later and I’m out earlier. Hence why I told you to come over tomorrow.” Tom thunked his head against Ben’s arm, making his point.

“Alright, I get it.” Ben leaned forward, giving in to the temptation to kiss his forehead, lingering there for a moment. “Is Louis coming over as well?”

Tom shook his head. “Well. He’ll be over late the next morning. If you’re still here you’ll see him, though that’s not what you’re really asking, is it?”

“I was asking exactly what I was asking,” Ben said, frowning a bit. “Just wanted to know what to expect.”

“Just you and me. No more surprises.” Tom smiled up at him, eyes crinkling. Ben shifted his arm, tilting Tom’s head just a bit so he had the proper angle to lean down and kiss him, Tom’s lips parting almost immediately. Ben licked along the full curve of his lower lip, pressing inside slowly, savoring Tom’s familiar taste. Tom let Ben cradle his head, passively going where Ben took him, such a novel sense that it was a pleasure in itself. Something distracted him, the barest hint of a sound from the bedroom, and he lifted his head. It started as an instinctual motion, until he remembered that it was Shannon in there and he had to arrest the expression that was doubtlessly crossing his face. He licked his lips and couldn’t help but wince, trying to smooth his features out as Tom looked at him.

“Problem?”

“I thought I heard something.”

Tom looked dubious but tilted his head, listening. 

“It’s nothing,” Ben said, hoping Tom would drop it.

“You afraid of getting cooties?”

“No.” As soon as Tom had said it, though, he’d become acutely aware of the fact that he’d just been kissing the same mouth Shannon had been kissing moments before.

“Yeah, you are, though.” Tom leaned back into the crook of Ben’s elbow, his eyes heavy lidded.

“I’m really not that foolish.” He thought he wasn’t, but when Tom had been kissing her moments before, that was just another matter.

“Then kiss me.”

Ben leaned down, pressing his mouth down hard against Tom’s, forcing his way inside, teeth scraping against his lower lip. Ben nipped at him, biting harder than he should have, not really a kiss anymore, until Tom surged up, chest pushing against Ben’s arm as he struggled to sit against the back of the sofa, pulling Ben along with him. Tom’s hand on the back of Ben’s head didn’t quite quell him, and Ben felt every move of Tom’s mouth as a question, did he kiss her like this, did she bite him, when Ben bit down was he fitting his teeth into prints she had left behind?

Tom used his bulk to move Ben so they were pressed chest to chest, Tom’s arms wrapped around Ben’s back as he pulled them both down, Tom lying against the arm with Ben firmly snugged against him. Tom pulled his head back, running his tongue over his lower lip.

“Yeah, you’re not bothered at all,” he said.

Ben sighed, lowering his head to rest on Tom’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure if comfort was what Tom had been offering with that maneuver but he felt comforted, even if still at loose ends.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Ben said. 

“Didn’t think what would be this hard?” Tom asked. His hand smoothed a broad warm stripe down Ben’s back, his intent to comfort made clear.

“Sharing you.” He closed his eyes, sure that he’d said the wrong thing, but Tom didn’t stop rubbing his back. “That’s too simplistic, I just can’t think right now.”

“Are you having regrets, that you said yes?” Tom’s voice was too soft for Ben to get a read on his tone.

“No, I’m not.” Ben let himself relax under Tom’s hands for a moment, then pressed himself up against the sofa so he could look down. “You’re worth it, you’re worth this temporary discomfort. I know it’s just something I’ve got to get used to.”

Tom held his gaze without blinking. “Being with me shouldn’t be something you have to endure.”

“It’s not.” Ben sat up, gingerly rearranging his knees lest he put all his weight on the wrong side of Tom’s knees or simply crush him. He wound up kneeling over Tom’s shins, hands grasping his thighs. “I thought it wouldn’t be that different from us seeing other people, but it’s not other people, it’s one other person.”

“Yes, she is.” 

Ben sighed. “Yes, I know. How do you deal with this?”

Tom shrugged, making his shoulders and chest move under his t-shirt. “It’s not all that different from before. We were both seeing other people, or at least allowed to see other people. This seemed like a natural extension of that.”

“Whereas it doesn’t seem like that to me because I had decided that I was done with all that, and I wanted to be with just you.” He kneaded his hands in Tom’s jeans, silently imploring him not to call him out on his blatantly foolish statement, that he could somehow have unilaterally decided to change the rules.

“So you’re not seeing Martin and Amanda anymore?” Tom asked, a sly smile just quirking the side of his mouth.

Ben scowled at him. “Were the situation different and you had told me to stop, I would have. As it is, I barely ever see them because they’re both working parents, but yes, if the opportunity arises, I will see them, particularly if it happens to be a time when I couldn’t possibly be spending my time with you.”

“Fair enough.” Tom reached for him and Ben leaned down into his embrace.

“You really don’t mind, though, always being the last biscuit in the tin?” Ben let his weight settle over Tom’s chest, letting the warmth seep through their clothes.

“I’m a biscuit now?” Tom was laughing silently. “That was one hell of a conversation you two had.”

“Like, the last biscuit, and everyone wants it, and no one wants a broken biscuit,” Ben trailed off, losing the plot of what he was trying to say. 

“Well, luckily for all of us, I am not consumed and gone forever in a matter of seconds.” Tom gently guided Ben’s head so he could kiss him again, his hand resting on the back of Ben’s neck. 

Ben let himself relax into the kiss, waiting until they’d separated to speak again.

“What would Shannon think if she came out here and found us like this?” He imagined the way it would look from the bedroom door, their legs entwined on the sofa, Ben lying on top of Tom with Tom’s hand stroking down his back.

“I’ve got a pretty good idea, but it gets into speculation, so I don’t like to say,” Tom said.

“I just don’t want her to be upset. I know she’s more of a right to be here tonight than I do.”

Tom sighed, deeply enough that Ben was slightly lifted by it. “I don’t think she’d be upset, at least, not much. She knows you and I are together. She knows you’re here right now. I doubt she’d be shocked. But speculating about either of you to the other or talking about any but the lightest topics is just something I’m not going to do. You want to know something like that, ask her yourself.”

Ben was shaking his head no before Tom had even finished speaking. 

“Right. Because you’re not friends,” Tom said, remembering.

“But I think we will be.” Ben leaned forward and kissed him quickly, then stood up before he could be tempted to do more. “I should be going home.”

“We’ve both got early days tomorrow,” Tom said, as if that was the reason Ben would be going. “You’re free in the afternoon though?”

“I’ll be over around four,” Ben said. “If that’s alright.”

Tom nodded. “If I’m not here, just let yourself in.”

“I left my clothes in your bath,” Ben said. “I imagine they’re still wet.”

“Yeah, I’ll just send them out with mine, unless there’s something you need right now?”

Ben shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like it’s raining any longer. I should be fine to take the bike home.”

Tom started. “Absolutely not. It is still raining and the roads are soaked. You’re not going out in that. I’ll drive you home.”

“That means leaving her here alone,” Ben said, looking towards the bedroom.

“I’ll leave her a note.” Tom went to the kitchen and grabbed a shopping list tablet off the refrigerator, scribbled a note and slipped into the bedroom. After a moment he returned, shutting the door softly behind him.

At the bottom of the stairs Ben shoved his feet into the boots, the loose material of the sweat pants bunching up. He shuffled out to the curb, scuffing along until he got into Tom’s car.

“You should take a cab here tomorrow, maybe, and take the bike home then,” Tom said.

“Makes sense. Might be able to just get a car to drop me here, too,” he said. Neither of them were well enough known that anyone would have to be warned against gossip.

“Sure, whatever. Text me when you’re here.” Tom reached over and held his knee for a moment. “I really am glad to be able to see you this week.”

“Yeah, me too.” Ben looked out the window. The rain was a steady mist, the kind that made people think they could see better than they could. Tom had been right not to let him ride the bike home. “Funny to think we’re actually seeing each other more than ever.”

“We’re both making an effort,” Tom said, as if it were obvious. “Not to mention we’re both working in London, for once.”

“Nice work if you can get it,” Ben said, as much because it was true as to stop himself from asking what he really wanted to know. It was hard to articulate, and he tried to keep it on the back of his tongue, anyway, knowing it couldn’t be answered in the span of a short car trip. _What is actually going to happen with the three of us_ wasn’t the sort of thing to spring on one’s partner when there were but minutes left in the conversation. He watched the street lamps’ light play across Tom’s face instead, hoping that his silent stare would be taken for admiration. In some part of his mind that he didn’t like to admit he had expected the experiment of Tom dating both him and Shannon to fail. Then he would have been alone, unwanted, but a known quantity, or would have had Tom all to himself, an unknown, but wanted quantity. As it was Shannon’s affableness and Tom’s reason seemed to make it more likely that they could... what, he wondered. What was the right term. Limp along seemed too harsh, while make it work seemed too optimistic for something that still felt, at times, like a shared custody agreement.

“Do you have your keys?” Tom asked as he pulled up outside of Ben’s home.

“Right here.” Ben jingled them, to reassure himself that he did, in fact, have his keys, and not something of a similar weight. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Tom leaned over the console and kissed him once more, firm and thorough. Despite his melancholy musings, Ben felt his spirits lifted by the kiss, and knew he would repeat it in his mind many times before their next meeting.

Ben unlocked his door, aware that Tom was waiting to make sure he’d get inside, turned and waved just as Tom drove off.


End file.
